A Phrenology Contest

Someone said, you be the judge!

As a respected, as well as revered, practitioner of the healing arts, our native consultant Yo'Doc is often asked to serve in advisory capacities. One of his more unusual posts was one he filled recently, that of judge in a phrenology contest.

There aren't a lot of these held during the course of a normal year in this country. Thus the organizing committee was forced to scramble a bit to find a person of high moral and ethical standards who was familiar with the practice to serve as judge. For those of you for whom phrenology is just a funny word, it's the technique of determining one's mental and social capacities and behavior potential by examining the shape (and bumps and dips, etc.) of the skull. Due to a recent upsurge in interest in this ancient art, mostly in the New Age centers of the world, its devotees have become very competitive, staging contests to determine who among them feels the best, so to speak. Bragging rights are at stake here.

This year's event was held in a large outdoor arena normally used for ostrich racing, since the Alamo Dome had already been reserved by the NCAA. This venue posed several problems for the sponsors, not the least of which was the exceptionally high incidence of ostrich dander allergy among spectators. (The noise of sneezing, very unsettling to the contestants, had to be stifled somehow. The ultimate, and rather clever, solution was to provide each ticket holder with a surplus WWII gas mask, to be donned just the moment before a sneeze struck. One problem did come up, though. A poorly coordinated attendee unfortunately got his mask on backwards, resulting in massive amplification of his nasal expostulation. In turn, this caused "Fingers" MacDougal to misjudge a Buddhist Monk as a serial killer. In his successful appeal to Yo'Doc, MacDougal was granted a replacement head.)

Now, for the protocol of the Great Phrenology Challenge of 2001. First, the ten contestants, all with at least two weeks of experience, were to be given the same five "patients" to examine. As noted above, a monk and a killer (both appropriately manacled) were two, the remaining three being a physician, a housewife, and a rap artist. To reduce the confounding variable of hair style and amount, all subjects were shaven bald, and liberal amounts of sunscreen applied to their newly shined scalps. (Liability issues were foremost in the minds of the committee, and they didn't want to be sued for sunburn.)

Each contestant, blindfolded and accompanied by a "recorder", was given five minutes to examine each seated "patient" and advise his recorder of his impression. (One bit of levity occurred when a waggish phrenologist, bored with the staid nature of things, palpated an ostrich egg which was displayed on a pedestal nearby and pronounced it "the most astounding example he'd ever felt of a presidential candidate.") It was the job of the judge to ascertain that no one gained any advantage by use of other senses, such as smell, taste, or hearing. One certainly has to be amazed that Yo' could do it.

Well, the outcome surprised everyone. Not one of the contestants got a single head right! There was, however, an amazing consistency in their inaccuracy. Nine out of ten thought the rap artist was a physician, and all ten believed the housewife to be the monk! About half labeled the physician as a serial killer, drawing cries of, "You go, guy!" from the crowd. After lengthy consultation, Yo'Doc and the committee decided to give the championship trophy to the participant with the most flair in performing his examinations. It turned out to be a former melon picker from Yuma, Arizona, who said from the awards platform, "I couldn't have done it without the support of my wife and the Cantaloupe Growers of Southern Arizona!"

As he was leaving the arena, Yo'Doc was overheard saying to the committee chairperson, Adelvira Surehands, "Don't ever call me again if you value your life!"